MisMated
by Blood of an Authoress
Summary: Ron discovers his true heritage and must live with the consequences; Slash RonSeverus
1. The Beginning

**Important Data:**

- For the purpose of this story Ronald Weasley's birthday shall be February 19th. According to data I have recently found on JK Rowling's site she says, and I quote, "Ron, who was born in the February 18 – March 17 period…" However, if anyone knows Ron's true birthday, and know where they found this information, I would be extremely happy to know the correct data.

Also, for everyone's knowledge, Severus Snape is 37 years old. For my reasoning on this please email me. My email is in my profile.

**Important Tidbit:** Ginny Weasley died in the summer after her fourth year of education at Hogwarts. From this time Ron has been, essentially, a true adult.

This story shall be slash. This is your only warning.

-Thank you, you may now proceed to the story.

**_MisMated_**

**_Prologue/Chapter 1_**

**_The Beginning_**

_Prologue:_

Ronald Weasley, a red-headed seventh-year Gryffindor, fiddled with his hands, sitting in a plush mahogany chair within Professor Dumbledore's office. It was February seventh, and Ron had hoped to be outside throwing snowballs with all the other Gryffindors. Instead he was stuck in this room waiting for Dumbledore. He checked the time; 4:28. He'd been there for quite some while.

He really wasn't sure why he was there, actually. All he knew was that one moment he was walking with Harry, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, and Neville as to go play some winter games, like Snowbattle, when Professor McGonagall had come up and stopped their group. Frowning heavily, she had informed Ron that he was to report immediately to Professor Dumbledore's office. When he had asked why she sighed and she said that she could not reveal the reason to him. She had then taken him to the gargoyle statue and ushered him in.

Ron had been expecting Dumbledore to be there already, waiting for him. He soon realized that this was not the case. To occupy himself he had looked around, shuffling lightly through some of the papers on Dumbledore's desk. He quickly tired of that, and just sat in his chair, staring off into space. About halfway in is when his thought process kicked in.

Now then, Ron was smart enough to realize that it was not for any of his, Harry's, and Hermione's recent escapades that he had been called to Dumbledore's office. If it was not something that he had done, perhaps it was something Dumbledore needed him to do. This thought though, led to the other of, 'Why would he need me to do something?'

The only other reason he could think of would be if one of his family was injured or killed. However, if such a thing was to happen, it would be most likely that Professor McGonagall would be the one to inform him. He had, for the moment, run out of explanations for Dumbledore needing to speak to him.

Sighing, he stretched out, only to realize that Dumbledore had entered the room. Sitting down gracefully in his own chair, Dumbledore rested his head on his fingers, which were laced together neatly. He rested his eyes momentarily. Looking at the expression on Dumbledore's face, Ron was concerned. Dumbledore appeared to be thinking hard, which was not something anyone saw often. A pair of light blue eyes opened; Dumbledore had decided to be blunt.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Weasley, that in two days you will be a threat to Hogwarts," Dumbledore informed his student gravely.

"Eh? What are you talking about, Professor?" Ron blinked, confused.

"I suppose," Dumbledore said, staring down through his half-moon spectacles, "I should start at the beginning, yes?"

"What beginning?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I had hoped, my dear boy, that your... parents would have already explained to you the truth of your heritage. Unfortunately, they deemed it an inappropriate subject to approach you with, and well... here we are."

"We're here where?" Ron cried in frustration.

"Mr. Weasley, you are a Veela," Dumbledore stated calmly, watching the young man.

"What are you talking about?" Ron laughed it off. "That's absurd, preposterous! Imagine, me, a Veela!" He scoffed. "Professor, no one within my family has any Veela blood whatsoever. I don't know why you could possibly be thinking that I could be a Veela; I'm not even a female!"

Ron knew that Dumbledore had to be kidding. After all, only females could be Veela. That was common knowledge. The male Veela's existence was just a myth that had been passed down for hundreds of years. Hermione had even said so. Ron remembered because once, in fourth year, Ron had asked Hermione about Veelas. Seeing the ones at the Quidditch Cup had sparked his interest in them.

* * *

"Hey, Hermione," a fourth-year Ron said loudly to the brunette. 

The said girl looked up from the book she was reading, a flash of annoyance crossing her face. "Ron, be quiet!" she hissed. "This is a library, and if I am kicked out because of you once more, I'll hex you! Now, what do you want?"

Ron rolled his eyes, then asked a little bit softer than before, "What do you know about Veelas?"

"Veelas?" the girl inquired thoughtfully, twirling her quill in her hand. "Well, Veelas are mystical creatures. Due to their ability to control pheromones, they can easily sway those of the opposite gender to do what they want. Veelas are always female. Actually, I've read books mentioning both male and Mortuus Veelas. Both of those, though, are just tales, nothing more," she said, dismissing them.

"Oh.." Ron murmured. "Um, what are some good books about Veelas?"

The bushy-haired girl stared at him. It wasn't everyday that he asked for reading material. "Try Veela Life, Mystical Creatures, and The Mystical Veela," she suggested. "If you want more, just let me know."

"Yeah. Thanks Hermione," he said, getting up and walking away from the table.

"You're welcome," the girl whispered under her breath.

* * *

He chuckled, wiping some tears from his eyes. Sighing after the good laugh, he noticed that Dumbledore was most definitely not laughing; on the contrary, he was extremely serious. Even the twinkle that seemed permanently stuck in his eyes could not be found. Peering carefully at the Headmaster, Ron found himself receiving a bad feeling in his chest.

"Professor?" he asked warily, thinking that perhaps Dumbledore had, indeed, been telling the truth. "I'm not really a Veela... am I?"

"Male Veelas are rare, Mr. Weasley, but they do exist. I am sorry, but you are a Veela. To be more specific, a Mortuus Veela," Dumbledore said softly.

"But... _how_?" Ron demanded to know, perplexed.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "Well, if you'd allow me to explain..."

_Chapter 1:_

"But that can't be possible! Why isn't anyone else of your family a Veela then? And your hair is red, and Veelas are known for their blonde hair, and well, feminism. Sorry to tell you, but you're anything but-" Hermione rambled on in denial.

"Hermione, gods, let me finish explaining it to you and Harry, will you? Fuck," Ron sighed, raising a hand to quiet her. "This, this... appearance is an illusion, okay? It's not real. I've been living looking like this, but I don't, not really. And why am I different from my family, why am I the only one affected? Well, it might just be because I'm not really a Weasley! Wow, isn't that a shocker?" he asked sarcastically, Harry staring at him wide-eyed, Hermione gasping in surprise.

"Yeah, I'm not a Weasley; I don't know who the hell I am! I could be anyone. Well, anyone related to a Veela family, that is. And lucky me, my whole appearance is going to change as soon as I become seventeen. I'm a bloody Veela, okay? Oh, and don't worry about others finding out. They'll all learn about it anyhow!"

"I-I... but... couldn't Dumbledore, couldn't he...?" Hermione asked, dazed, looking faint.

"Couldn't he put the illusion back up? Yeah, he could, I suppose. You know what? I might as well let him do that, that way I can just keep living my lie of a life without anyone else finding out. Oh, wait, damn!" He hissed, stomping his left leg in anger, "That won't work! I have to find a bloody mate, so everyone will know anyhow because of that! Oh well, I bloody tried!"

Storming off into snow, he ignored his friends' calls. Seamus and Dean, who had wandered up to Harry and Hermione clueless, and only hearing the tail-end of Ron's rant, stared curiously after him before shrugging and walking off, leaving Hermione and Harry to stare shocked after Ron.

* * *

After walking away from his friends, and wandering aimlessly around Hogwarts, Ron found himself near the Forbidden Forest late at night. He stared off into it, unblinking in his sorrow. His previously running thoughts slowed to a stand-still, becoming detached from him. He now stared peacefully off into the night sky. The stars were relaxing to look at when one took the time to appreciate them. Stars were beautiful little orbs of light to the eyes, a pattern not harmful to them. This feeling was one of many that Ron had not felt in much time. 

The first night after Ginny had died Ron had stared up, trying to find the heavens. He had been unable to; his eyes had filled with tears, and one blink brought the water to cascade over onto his pale cheeks. Collapsing onto his knees in the wet ground, Ron had curled forward, his arms placed protectively along side his head. Charlie, who had also been watching the starry sky, placed his right hand soothingly on his sobbing brother's shoulder. Ron had soon falling asleep afterward from exhaustion. The next night Ron did not go outside.

The peace that Ron was feeling now was something he was grateful for. He had been unable to look at the stars peacefully since that one night. The peace that he had found in the stars now ended abruptly upon a man stumbling through the bushes.

'Professor Snape...' the boy realized.

Severus Snape straightened, his black hair pulled back, revealing a basket that carried many herbs and potion ingredients. The man studied Ron carefully before moving forward. When he became just out of Ron's eyesight range, he stopped.

"Going for an evening stroll... Mr. Weasley?" Snape inquired mockingly, a glint in his eye, before once again heading to Hogwarts, without waiting for a reply.

Ron turned, his cloak wrapping around his body, to stare suspiciously after him. Snape felt the stare for he turned his head to the side, looking back at Ron while he walked. He lifted a brow, and then resumed his path. Ron still stared at him, but now he moved after the professor, following him to Hogwarts.

* * *

Ron quietly shut the portrait-door of the Gryffindor Common Room behind him. He walked over silently to the couch in front of the fireplace. He paused when stepping in front of it. There laid Hermione, a book opened and resting on her stomach, rising and falling with each of her breaths. 

Ron gently lifted the considerably-large sized book off of Hermione, placing it quietly on the nearby table. The title of the book, _Mortuus_ _Veelas:_ _The Myth_, caught his eye. His amber eyes softened, and he carefully placed a brown wool blanket over his friend.

Looking back over at the book, Ron noticed parchment sticking out from between the pages. He opened the book, pulling the parchment out. Reading what was written, a brief smile crossed his face. Hermione had copied down notes on Mortuus Veelas that she had found most important. It was to be expected. Ron glanced over the notes again.

_Mortuus Veelas have always been considered a myth due to the fact that there are no written stories or information on them from reliable sources. All information about these Veelas is actually from folktales passed down among generations of families. Even so, not much information is known about this type of Veela._

_The two types of Veelas that do exist for a fact are the regular female Veelas and the few and rare male Veelas. However, Mortuus Veelas are the ones that most interest those who study the Veela races. Perhaps this next bit of information will explain why._

_The origin of the Mortuus Veelas' name is from Latin. Mortuus Veela - Dead Veela. There is a reason for 'Mortuus' to be added to the term Veela. As a way of explanation, let me tell you a story._

_There was, in the past, a village full of female and male Veela. It was secluded, hidden away from the rest of the world. All was as it should have been; there was peace, laughter, and good times. They had no worries of being found, since their town was shielded by a powerful and ancient spell that was kept activated by the annual ritual. The ritual was a conduct of goodwill and sacrifice to a most powerful goddess; Athena, the goddess of protection._

_The ritual was performed by six chosen Veelas; three were female, the other three male. To activate the spell's power, a dance-spell was weaved in the Genero Circle, which was located in the center of the town. When the dance-spell was completed the blood of the dancers was required. Only the blood of these specific dancers could full the requirement, and the requirement had always been fulfilled, until **her**._

_She was one of the most respected Veelas of the village. She was a kind and gentle person; never one to turn down another in need. She was brilliant and beautiful, one of the most sought after women. When the year's dancers were announced, and her name was among the list, it was said that her blood would strengthen the shield even more. She was a most perfect candidate._

_When congratulated on being one of the dancers, she would always smile and nod at them. For the whole village, it appeared, life was happier than ever. Soon, though, the day of the ritual came. The dance was done, and now the blood-letting knives were brought out. They were presented to each of the dancers, the woman being last to receive hers. The other five Veelas pushed the knives into their stomachs; at the time that the last woman would cut herself, the ritual would be ended for the year. However, things took a turn when she threw down the knife, and escaped from the village. The villagers had been depending heaviest on her to do the year's ritual, and it was her who failed them. It was rather ironic, actually; her name was Ironia, meaning irony._

_For the next year the village would have to live without their shield. This quota of time had almost been fulfilled when the vampire came. It fed on a female Veela and killed her before fleeing. The villagers did not know that this Veela would become a vampire also; it had never before happened. When the first Mortuus Veela arose, the village was destroyed, and scattered. Since that time there have been nine Mortuus Veela sightings reported. If this type of Veela truly exists, we may never know._

Ron ended his reading there, surprised by the story, that Mortuus Veelas were vampires. He stood there for a few minutes, trying to allow the knowledge to absorb into his brain. Carefully, he set the note down. Then he slowly trudged over and up the stairs. He sat on his bed, and thought the story over, at least until he heard a rustle.

He looked over, and saw a figure sitting on a bed. It was Harry.

"Ron," he whispered, "...I'm sorry."

Ron said nothing, he just sat there in a stony silence.

"I know this must be hard for you to accept. Most everything you thought to be your life has suddenly vanished, and now you must struggle to find your real identity. As well as that, everyone is going to learn what you really are, and they're going to treat you differently. And on top of that all, you're going to have to find your mate. You don't really get to choose them, do you?" he said softly.

"I wish this wasn't happening to you. You're my best mate and I don't want your life to be complicated. I just want you to be you, and now everything has been turned upside down. I'm so sorry, Ron, I'm so sorry!" Harry cried in a whisper, tears welling up inside his emerald eyes.

Ron did nothing, save for turning to the shadowed wall to look unblinkingly down at his red pillow, a single crystal tear sliding down his cheeks.

* * *

-Mortuus literally means dead in Latin. 

**Disclaimer:** I have not, do not, and will not ever own the works known as "Harry Potter" by J.K. Rowling. As such, all written by myself is for my own reasons and purposes. No profit is being made off of this writing. Thank you.

For knowledge of updates visit my livejournal; you may find the link in my profile.

Questions you may have:

1. Since Ron is a vampire, why can he walk in the sunlight?  
- He is prominently a Veela, so he retains that ability.

2. Will his attitude change?  
- Yes, but only from emotional stress caused by the new knowledge he has acquired.

3. What is the purpose of Ginny being dead?  
- It has allowed me to make Ron a much more serious and responsible person. Don't worry, he isn't anywhere near being like Hermione.

4. Will we ever learn who Ron's true family is?  
- Only if I do a sequel pertaining to that topic.

5. Can two males have a child together?  
- Yes, by using a potion. Don't get your hopes up about Ron and Severus having any, though.

6. Is Voldemort still alive?  
- No.


	2. The Explanations

**Disclaimer:** I have not, do not, and will not ever own the works known as "Harry Potter" by J.K. Rowling. As such, all written by myself is for my own reasons and purposes. No profit is being made off of this writing. Thank you.

_**MisMated**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_**The Explanations:**_

* * *

A small child, no older than four years of age, sniffled in a house that held no light. His small and round head adorned dark and deep red hair which contrasted with his pale skin tone. The eyes he had, an intense shade of red deeper than that of dried blood, were dim and showed crystal tears that threatened to spill over onto his white cheeks. Clumsily the boy wiped his nose with the right sleeve of his deep blue robe, afterwards wiping his eyes. He stood, wobbling on his two feet, fighting to remain standing. Hiccuping, he slowly moved forward before tripping over himself. For the second time within the hour, he began to cry. 

There, on the floor against the wall, the little boy stayed, crying tears of sadness, pain, hurt, anger, and betrayal all in one. From time to time the child would stand up, moving to and fro before again swaying to the alluring floor. Wailing his agony out into the air, the toddler began to glow a silver color, rising from the floor. Noticing the anomaly, the young one lifted his face. His eyes flashed, an emotion unknown passing through them. And then he screamed.

-

"RON!" Harry bolted from his bed, rushing to his best friend's. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Ron jolted awake in fear, his eyes wide and bloodshot. Slowly, he lifted his hands to his face and placed them on his cheeks, searching for something. All he felt though,was a warm wetness.

"Oh God," he whispered, in shock, raising his hands before his eyes. "Is this... blood?"

He looked up into Harry's horrified face. Glancing back down at his hands, he peered at the blood in wonder while his friend was yelling bloody murder for Hermione to come up into the boys' dormitory immediately.

The girl raced up the stairs, scared that something was happening to Harry. She slammed into the door, bursting it open. Her almond-colored eyes were wide, and they searched the room. Soon they settled on Ron's bloodied hands and face, with Harry kneeling in front of him trying frantically to wipe the blood away with his too-large t-shirt.

"What happened?" Hermione demanded in panic, rushing over to Ron, pushing Harry over to the side. She examined Ron's eyes, which while obviously bleeding before, had now stopped. The thing that frightened her though was that there were no wounds on his eyes or near them.

Snapping, she sniped at the other boys in the dormitory who were just sitting in confusion to hurry and fetch Professor McGonagall. They stumbled over themselves to get the professor. Hermione gently wiped the blood near Ron's eyes with her fingers. She brought them up near her own eyes, and studied the blood closely.

"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall asked sternly from the doorway. She then saw Ron sitting on the edge of his bed with blood running down his face. "Mr. Potter, I need you to go to Headmaster Dumbledore now with this message," she leaned towards him. " 'It has begun.' "

Harry nodded and with a last glance at Ron, ran to do as he was told. The professor moved to the young man, causing Hermione to back off. Carefully the professor now inspected his eyes. Sighing, she took a handkerchief out and wiped her ward's face and hands.

Standing, the woman now snapped at everyone in the room, "You are to leave this room immediately. You will not speak of this to anyone or you shall be severely punished. You will receive your explanations soon."

Everyone looked at each other uncertainly.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" McGonagall barked.

And so they left.

-

"Ronald," McGonagall snapped her fingers in front of the boy.

He looked up, sparing her a glance before snorting and laying down on his bed. He didn't care what she wanted to say at that particular moment. It would just be a waste of his time, really. He sneered slightly and pulled his pillow under his head, staring up at the ceiling.

"Say whatever it is you're going to say and just leave," the boy commented, bored and annoyed, seemingly unfazed by what had just happened.

"What do you want me to say?" McGonagall inquired.

That got his attention. "What do you mean?"

"What is it, Mr. Weasley, that you want me to tell you? What do you want to know?"

He grimaced at the usage of his not-last name. "So whatever I ask about, you'll tell me?"

"If I know the answer, and.. if I am allowed to, then yes, I will," she replied.

He snorted lightly; he knew there was going to be a catch. "If I'm going to become so 'dangerous', how am I going to be able to continue going to Hogwarts? I'm sure Dumbledore doesn't want me to endanger his precious students."

The professor frowned. "Don't speak like that of the Headmaster. You will continue your education right here in Hogwarts. However, due to the nature of your heritage you will be under watch by the staff. Don't worry, you can continue to reside in Gryffindor Tower among your friends."

A brief flash of surprise crossed Ron's face. "I can? For real?"

"Yes, for real."

"Oh. Um, Professor?"

"What is it?"

"Am I going to have to drink blood? Because of the whole vampire thing, I mean.." Ron trailed off.

"I'm afraid that is the case," McGonagall confirmed. "You will require to drink one pint of blood once per month. However, since you are only a half-blood Mortuus Veela, you may drink animal's blood instead of humans."

"..well, that's good, I guess," Ron said uncertainly. "But do I reall-"

"Yes, you really have to. Now then, I do have a few things I need to speak to you about. For instance, the changes you will be going through rather soon."

Ron groaned and hid his head in his pillow, which McGonagall promptly took away. She hit him lightly on the head with her hand. Glaring at her, he sat up and leaned back against the wall.

"Now then, do you know of any of the differences which you will experience upon your seventeenth birthday?"

"Well," Ron said, thinking about the obvious, "My appearance is going to change, right? It'll be the way its supposed to be, I guess. And you've already said I'm going to have drink blood. Hey, wait a minute," Ron frowned, "Why haven't I had to drink it before? Not that I'm complaining, but.."

"Need I say this again? You are only a half-blooded Mortuus Veela. The major effects, therefore, do not begin until you reach the stage of adulthood."

"Uh, yeah." Ron coughed uncomfortably and pulled himself into a more relaxed position. He looked pointedly at Harry's bed for McGonagall to sit on, which she did.

"So, what other things are ther.." Ron broke off, remembering one thing which made him cringe. "The mate." It was sneered with much dislike and disgust.

"Yes. That is something we need to discuss thoroughly. Like all other Veelas, the Mortuus Veela detects their mate by pheromones. However, there are side effects. This morning's episode was one of them."

Ron looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"The blood was caused by a change of your nerve patterns which popped a vein allowing you to gain more control of your pheromones. Slowly you will now begin to smell the pheromones of the people around you. When you find the most enjoyable one, it will be your mate. Their's will seem perfect in your mind. You will know instinctively, and immediately. You will just _know,_" the Professor said with an emphasis.

"After I find my.. mate," Ron asked hesitantly, "Will I still be able to smell these pher-things?"

"Pheromones," McGonagall corrected, "and yes, you will. It doesn't stop, I'm afraid."

Ron nodded and looked down at his hands. He frowned; there was still some blood smeared on them. Spitting on them, he rubbed his hands together before wiping them on a dirty shirt nearby.

"Your classmates, I'm afraid, are going to have a rather hard time adjusting to this, you know." This was commented quietly from the woman. "Most likely some will write home to their parents writing words of fear and spite about you. Do not be surprised if the Ministry attempts to interfere, but know that we will not allow them to all the same."

Ron nodded a bit gravely, bitting his lip. He hadn't thought about the Ministry trying to interfere. What would they want to do with him? After all, he would the first Mortuus Veela they would be able to get their hands on, wasn't he?

"This evening, at supper, Professor Dumbledore has planned to announce your heritage to the school. Is this alright with you?" McGonagall asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Ron nodded; it needed to be done. Even if he didn't want anyone to know, itneeded tobe done.

"Now then, Ronald," McGonagall stood up. "Your parents are here to see you. I'll send them in."

-

Molly and Arthur Weasley, a sweet and kind couple, nervously entered the room where their son was. His back was turned to them, but then he looked at them.

"I have a question for you," Ron said shortly, now angry. "Why can I still do magic if I'm a Veela? Why am I at Hogwarts?"

"Well, dear," Molly paused, sharing a look with her husband. Ron hadn't even said hello, "You see... one of your parents was a Mortuus Veela. The other was a pureblood wizard, which makes you a half-wizard."

"Great," Ron's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Just what I always wanted."

"Ron, son..." Arthur hesitated, "We really thought it would be best if we waited until you were older to tell you about your true heritage."

"Really?" Ron drawled out the word. "Just how long were you going to wait to tell me?"

"Ronald..." Molly said in agony.

"Tell me," Ron whispered angrily, "Just why everyone thought I was a Weasley; how'd you stop them from knowing?"

Arthur blinked and looked down at the floor. "Ron, when your mother - your biological mother - was about a month pregnant she came to Professor Dumbledore for help. We don't know why. Dumbledore suggested to her that the baby, you, should come to us.

When we were told, we agreed. It was necessary that everyone thought you were really our child, so a spell was put on Molly to give her the appearance of pregnancy. When it came time, we took the child under the pretense that Molly was giving birth to you almost two months early. No one knew otherwise except for Dumbledore, the woman, and us."

Molly stood up; her hands were linked together, her knuckles white. "To keep up the pretense of you being our child Professor Dumbledore put a spell on you before giving you to us. It gave you general looks of a Weasley. It was to work until you became an adult-"

"So you were just going to let me wake up on my birthday to discover the truth!" Ron exploded. "What the _hell_ kind of parents are you!"

Molly opened her mouth. "No, NO!" Ron shouted. "Go, just leave! Leave me alone, I don't want to hear it! You didn't want to tell me anything before, so why now, right? Besides, you're not even my parents!"

Molly gasped, her eyes widening. Her hands came up to her chest as she stared at him incredulously. Arthur stood shocked. Ron didn't move, his chest barely moving as he breathed. His face contorted in anger as he hissed, "_Go!_"

They fled.

"Oh God," Ron choked out, falling back against a chair. "Why me?"

-

Harry and Hermione had met up in the library after being forced out of the Gryffindor Tower by their Head of House. Hermione, of course, made it there first due to the fact that Harry had a message to deliver to the Headmaster. Still, being in the Library with what was happening to Ron.. it didn't feel right. Hermione frowned, her brown eyebrows drawing down.

"Harry, what do you think is happening?" She asked softly, as not to disturb Madam Pince.

"I have no idea, Hermione," he responded. "But since we're here, I guess we've got some time to look it up, huh?"

The Head Girl sighed. "I suppose so. Alright then Harry, let's get to work. I have a feeling this is going to take quite awhile."

He nodded, and the two set off to work. They split up to cover different sections of the Library. Hermione was diligently going through every Veela book the Library had to offer. At one point she had all of the books she was planning at looking through piled up on the table in front of her so tall that they toppled over. She spared them a glance only because she really did love all books, but she didn't want to take up time doing unnecessary things.

Harry on the other hand, was checking out the lengthy rows of books are the many myths. It was frustrating to no end that most of these books spoke of what _muggles _considered to be myths. His left eye began to twitch with irritation, and he threw his current book; it just happened to hit one of Hermione's piles. Needless to say, they fell down on top of her. It was for this reason that Harry grimaced and rushed over to begin taking books off of Hermione.

It was now that Madam Pince came over and glared down at the two, and demanded that they leave immediately. The two did so dejectedly, making their way to the Great Hall for it was now time for supper.

-

Ron sat quietly at the Gryffindor table for the meal between Hermione and Harry. This was the time.. the time that Dumbledore was going to announce Ron's new found secret. And.. it was going to change everything. Ron knew that. He wouldn't be looked at the same, and the others were either going to be scared of him, or fascinated.

But wasn't this what he always wanted? He had always wanted to be the one in the spotlight, and now he was getting that chance. So why did he feel so miserable? Why was it he was dreading the moment that the truth would be told? And why didn't anyone notice he felt this way? Ron never just stared at his plate. Why couldn't they see? Was he really that invisible?

'Is this the only way that I won't be invisible to everyone?' Ron thought. 'If so, then I don't want it!'

THWACK!

Surprised, Ron looked up from his plate to the faces of his startled class members. They were staring at him, wary, glancing down to his right hand. He too looked at it. He stared, and slowly turned his head to look at Dumbledore. The Headmaster nodded his head with a sad smile at him. Then, he slightly tilted his head, silently asking the question, 'Should I announce it to them now?'

Ron hesitated. It was then that he nodded.

Dumbledore stood grandly, calling everyone's attention without saying a word. He gave a slight bow, and a nod.

"I apologize for interrupting your meals," he said firstly, "but to tell the truth, it is a must. For, you see, there is something I am to tell you."

His eyes twinkled, and he gave a wink to the students.

"You have all heard of Mortuus Veelas, correct?" he asked, receiving many murmurs as a reply. He clapped his hands together twiceto once again harness the students' attention. "Excellent, excellent. This makes it so much easier to say," he beamed. "For we have one among us right now. Though he is only a half-blood.." he trailed of thoughtfully.

"Ah, well. Oh, and please don't bother him with questions not needed. Will you stand up now, Mr. Weasley?"

* * *

A large thank you to all whom reviewed; I must say, it was rather amusing to note most of you mentioned the lack of RWSS stories. If you know of any good ones, would you please tell me of them? 

**cRudEdly** - I want this to be worthwhile very much. I like the idea of this story, even if it is only a spin of other ideas.

**Yulara **- I hope this becomes a good story too. And may I just comment on how thrilled I am that you went and read another piece of mine? To know that you went and looked at my other work just absolutely made my day. Thank you so much!

**sexy-as-ron** - True, true. This is something needing to be fixed, yes? (I'm happy that you too checked my other stories!)

**asininefreakshow** - Thank you, though I find my writing style to be a bit odd.

**Little Bunny Fu Fu** - Why, thank you! I'm glad you like it.. darling!

**herr-handel** - Yes, well, I never really imagined Ron being a vampire Veela either, so when I thought this up, it really was a must to write it!

**Note:** The next chapter will probably be posted in about 3-4 weeks. I apologize, but it is because the end of the trimester for school is almost here, meaning finals are going to worm their way into my life. I really do apologize.

_Beta?_ Does anyone wish to beta for me? Its come to my attention that I need one.


	3. The Reaction

Disclaimer: I have not, do not, and will not ever own the works known as "Harry Potter" by J.K. Rowling. As such, all written by myself is for my own reasons and purposes. No profit is being made off of this writing. Thank you. 

_**MisMated**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**The Reaction:**_

**_Monday, February 8th, 1997:_**

A pin could have dropped without a stir, dark and deep obsidian eyes noted neatly, raking across the Hall. Severus glanced bored at the Weasley child staring down at his plate, his eyes transfixed; the Granger girl biting down on her lip in worry with her eyebrows drawn downwards; Potter staring helplessly at his friend, his emerald eyes flickering uncertainly; Draco's face frozen, his eyes widened in shock, a look of disbelief placed within them; the other Professors' looks of amazement and surprise reflecting onto the children's.

The dark haired man raised a brow. He then reached out his hand and lifted his cup of wine, he took a sip, and returned it to its place on the table, the glass ringing just slightly as he did so; the shock broke. Whispers broke loose from the children's mouth, and murmurs from the professors', filling the Hall to a level of noise not reached before.

The Slytherins softly spoke words of spite and of it being a lie, but mainly showed indifference while still managing to show a slight spark of interest. The Hufflepuffs blinked confused, their unhurried minds not managing to grasp the situation clearly. Their gazes strayed over both the Gryffindor table and to their mentors. The Ravenclaws quickly thought back to reading of stray books, searching their memories for the discarded information they sought locked within their brains about Mortuus Veelas. The Gryffindor table, however, was in an uproar. Their confusion, disbelief, and anger struck their faces as they demanded the truth from their greatly trusted friend.

Seamus, a valued dorm mate, shaking his head unknowingly; Dean, loudly protesting the statement; Neville, cowering among the people while watching Ron out of the corner of his eye; Colin gaping at the mention of a Veela, Lavender, staring uncomprehendingly, as always.

The red-haired male became flustered and flushed a pale pink, his eyes never leaving his plate. He slouched in his seat, his elbows resting lightly on the table, his feet twitching now and then. Pressed between multiple people he drew his body to himself, trying vainly to withdraw from within their fold.

His two friends also crushed, but now away from him from when the rowdy crowd had shoved them carelessly aside, a change from their usual adoration of Harry, and their respect for Hermione. They struggled to push through the crowd back to their friend, but no one would budge. It was no use.

"Students!" Dumbledore commanded gravely, startling the whole of Gryffindor. Gradually they moved back from Ron, allowing Hermione and Harry to rush to Ron's side as he flushed.

"Take your seats," the Headmaster said, watching them as his took his own. "And all you need to know shall be explained to you. However, first you must calm yourselves."

Slowly the Gryffindor House returned to their previous seats, but murmurs remained. Slytherin had quieted, and were awaiting the explanation to come for their own purposes. Hufflepuff had immediately quieted upon the Headmaster's command, and Ravenclaw had done likewise. However, when Gryffindor did not quiet down on their own, the Ravenclaws took the task upon themselves.

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Now, I feel it would be best for your professors to be informed first. Afterwards your Head of House will drop by and explain the situation in full detail to you. For now, though, we shall finish eating. When all are done you are to retire back to your respective Towers."

It was now that Ron looked up at his fellow classmates and saw their glances, and some accusatory glares. His eyes narrowed in anger. And just why would they be upset about this? It wasn't them this was happening to. Did they feel betrayed? If so, for what reason? He scoffed and stood, gathering looks. He glared at them and left the Hall, Hermione and Harry following behind him.

Only one person noticed obsidian eyes that followed the redhead as he left the hall, but it was not in his nature to interfere.. at least so early. Dumbledore chuckled slightly, and when McGonagall gave him a questioning look, he only smiled back at her. She frowned at him, but left it alone. After all, she didn't want to become involved with his newest scheme if she didn't have to.

**_

* * *

_**

**_The Next Day.. Tuesday, February 9th, 1997:_**

"Ron, just ignore what everyone is saying!" Hermione said, sitting on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. "They don't know what to do so they're just making up nonsense! Honestly, you of all people should know this from all of the problems with Harry!"

"Hey," Harry protested meekly from his spot on the floor, "No need to involve me."

Hermione glared at him, then turned back to Ron. "And they're only scared of you because they heard the word vampire, and haven't bothered to look anything up!"

"Hermione, who does? Who honestly does that besides us, and maybe some of the Ravenclaws?" Ron asked, disgusted.

"Well, anyone who actually has brains would look it up, don't you think?" Hermione snapped. "Its not as if Headmaster Dumbledore and the staff gave a lot of information. Its only to be expected that everyone would be curious. I don't know why you're doubting that."

Harry choked on the muffin he was eating, and Ron quickly whacked him on the back before turning an accusatory stare at Hermione. "You see, even Harry knows how ridiculous that idea is! No one's actually going to look anything up, they're just going to believe I'm some murderous creature that's going to drink their blood if I get my hands on them! And you're supposed to be the smart one," Ron grumbled angrily.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, affronted, "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Ron said quickly, sighing. "Hermione, I'm sorry, but that's not the way people are. They believe anything they hear, and to be honest, I do the same most of the time. Think back over the years, back to second year when everyone thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. Once they heard that they took it for the truth."

"But we were just in our second year!" Hermione protested weakly.

"Yeah, but not everyone who believed it was in their second year," Harry stated softly.

"Well.." Hermione frowned, "Maybe if we spoke to Headmaster Dumbledore we could get his approval for the DADA professor to do a session about Mortuus Veelas," she paused to look at them. "Then everyone would have the correct information. Its worth something, right?"

Ron scoffed lightly, but agreed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So.. should we go see him now then, guys? We still have a little bit of time before we need to go to Herbology," Harry pointed out.

"So let's go."

And they did.

* * *

"Starbursts," Hermione said quietly to the statue guarding Dumbledore's office. After seeing Ron and Harry look at her funny she explained that their Headmaster was branching out into muggle candies. They shook their head, but didn't say a thing because they knew how absurd he could be. 

The gargoyle slowly opened, revealing the spiral staircase to them. Harry smiled mischievously suddenly, and began to dart up the stairs. Ron and Hermione looked after him confused before they started running after him. When they reached the top Harry turned around and simply said, "Beat you."

Ron gaped at him, while the Headmaster approached from behind Harry, chuckling. "Now, now," he said, eyes twinkling. "For what reason are you racing on the stairs?"

"Well, sir, we.." Hermione trailed off, and finally ending her sentence. "We thought it was important to see you, and running up the stairs was quicker than walking?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Its fine, my dear. If you ask me," he said softly, learning towards her as if to tell a large secret, "It always has been a bit boring with everyone just walking up the stairs. I would run up them myself, but with my age, I think I'll leave it to you younger ones."

Hermione blushed slightly while Dumbledore straightened up. "Well then, why don't you come in?"

The Headmaster quickly ushered them in, seating them in the plush chairs. He offered them tea, but only Hermione accepted. Ron sat, twiddling with his fingers, looking anywhere but at the Headmaster. Harry did likewise, but left out the twiddling of fingers, and Hermione calmly sipped her tea, appearing to be in thought. Suddenly a scraping sound snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up. It was a glass bowl, filled with candies.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"Um.. no, thank you," Hermione said.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore repeated to the two boys.

They also declined.

He shrugged and took one for himself. "Well, seeing as all three of you have come to visit me, I must assume it is something of importance," he smiled slightly. "What matter is troubling you three?"

"Well, sir," began Hermione. "Its about Ron. Or, rather, about how the rest of the students are reacting to the news about him."

"Ah, yes, I see." Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "And you were hoping I might be able to help?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Hermione paused briefly. "We were hoping to still the fear of our classmates by educating them on Mortuus Veelas. It would be an appropriate subject for Defense against the Dark Arts to cover, plus it would maybe help them to understand the situation, even if there isn't much information on Mortuus Veelas. Please, we'll find all the information ourselves; Professor Catter (1) won't have to do a thing!"

"That sounds terrific," the Headmaster said brightly. "I'll inform Professor Catter at once that you three have volunteered to teach the classes one day about Mortuus Veelas. Which day would you like to teach the students?"

"Wait, do you mean you want us to teach them? All of them, as in every class?" Ron asked, surprised and just a little displeased.

"Why, that's sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr. Weasley. Thank you for offering to do so," Dumbledore beamed.

Ron's eye began to twitch. 'And just _which_ House were you in again?' he thought in annoyance.

"Hm.. I know! How about a week from today? That would be next Tuesday then."

"That sounds.. fine, sir." Harry said uncertainly.

"Wonderful! Well, you should be heading to Herbology now, shouldn't you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir. Thank you very much," Hermione said politely before leaving, the two boys following behind her.

"Let me guess," Ron said as they went down the spiral staircase. "We're visiting the library tonight."

Hermione smiled. "Of course."

"But what about our homework?" Harry protested lightly.

"We'll do that first," she replied. The two boys groaned in unison while Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Come on, hurry, or else we'll be late!" She said, beginning to walk at a faster pace.

"Heaven forbid," Ron said mockingly, also increasing his pace. Harry just shook his head and walked between the two.

* * *

"Alright, class, I want a two foot essay on the properties and uses of both Calendula and Blessed Thistle for Monday!" Sprout shouted at her retreating students, shaking her head while muttering under her breath, "This Valentine's ball is going to be hell."

"I wonder what she meant by that," Ron frowned.

"Wonder what who meant by what?" Harry asked.

"What?" Ron gave Harry a strange look.

"You said, 'I wonder what she meant by that.'" Harry explained.

"Oh," Ron said in realization. "Professor Sprout said that this Valentine's ball is going to be hell."

"Maybe she doesn't like the work the professors have to put into the balls," Hermione suggested. "But it isn't any of our business."

"Of course not, Hermione," Ron mockingly agreed, beginning to grin. "Right Harry?"

"Of course!" He also agreed, laughing as he and Ron ran ahead and away from the wrath of Hermione.

"Get back here!" She yelled after them, laughing herself. "We need to go the library!"

"Never!" Ron shouted back.

Of course, Ron and Harry ended up being herded to the library even against their protestation. Hermione had went through the rows of books on mystical creatures - "Honestly, it was only five rows!" - Ron and Harry following behind her so that for every book she thought could be useful, she could pile up in their arms. When she was finally satisfied for the moment they dropped them onto a table with a large thud, earning them their first glare from Madam Pince for the day.

During the first hour they completed their homework, Hermione helping the boys. After that they spent almost three hours reading through the books and taking down notes. Hermione noticed that there was a surprising large amount of information on Mortuus Veelas, compared to what she thought would be available.

"The only bad thing is, though," she sighed, "that most of this is speculation, and isn't proven."

"Hey, maybe we could set the record straight," Harry said. "You know, after a bit."

"Perhaps," Hermione said dejectedly. "Well, give me your notes, why don't you? I'll organize them tonight, after supper. Tomorrow we can continue looking for information. Actually, Ron, will you check out the books we haven't looked through yet? It'd probably be better to have them on hand than to always have to find them on the shelves."

"Sure. Here," he said, thrusting his notes at Hermione. "I'll do that now."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Here you go, Hermione," Harry said politely, giving his notes to her. "I need to do something before supper, so I'll meet you two there."

"Alright," she agreed. "Good-bye, Harry."

Hermione packed up the notes, and shut the open books that were resting on the table. She created a stack of tombs, and then began to put them away. When Ron returned he helped, and then the two headed to supper.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked.

"He had to go do something," Hermione commented. "I don't know what; he didn't say."

Ron paused. "Oh."

Hermione sighed. "What is it now, Ron?"

"Well, I was just wondering.. is this really going to work?"

"Yes, it will," Hermione said forcefully. "It _will_ work, Ron."

He knew she was trying to comfort him, but he also knew she was lying.

"Okay," he said, pretending to believe her. "Okay."

* * *

(1) - Professor Catter is the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. 

Note: I'm not sure if I will be continuing this story. I might, but I'm not sure. Any updates will probably take a few months. Thanks to duj for pointing out I had put Ginny in my story, even though I took her out of it. So that means, yes, this chapter was up earlier, and then taken down to fix that and a few other things. The reason it was not posted soon after (it has been a month) was because I was thinking on if I want to continue this story. I am still interested in it, but I'm not sure if I can do the plot justice, and I'm a bit confused on what to do for a few things. I'll try though, really. Thank you.


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